


The Point Of It All

by SilverySparks



Category: Infernal Devices Series - Cassandra Clare
Genre: First Kiss, Hurt, M/M, Romance, St. Magnus's Home for Wayward Shadowhunters, Will suffering after losing Jem, heronstairs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-20
Updated: 2015-11-20
Packaged: 2018-05-02 14:24:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5251529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilverySparks/pseuds/SilverySparks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Jem is gone, Will seeks comfort with the one person he confided in before all others - and soon begins to see him in an entirely new light.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Point Of It All

Will hurried through the dark streets. It was raining, no, _pouring_ , just like the first time he’d done this, and just like the first time Will was wearing neither hat nor gloves. He wasn’t even wearing a coat, for that matter. His thin white chemise was sticking to his body, his boots squeaked with every step, and the rain running over his face made it look as if he was crying.

If his eyes were a little red, surely that was because of the wind.

William didn’t care. He didn’t duck his head or hunch his shoulders against the storm, nor did he push the dripping strands of jet-black hair out of his eyes. He didn’t need to see where he was going; his legs knew the way. He didn’t need to think.

Will bumped into a tiny old man, knocking him to the ground without even noticing. There was one word pulsing in his mind, like the ticking of a gigantic clock: gone. gone. gone. gone. And over it all, resounding and echoing in every corner of his head, one name: JEM!

After saying farewell to his parabatai in the fencing hall, he hadn’t been able to stay there any longer. There were too many memories attached to that place. So he had done what he always did when he was upset: He’d left, to run through the streets of London.

Only after an hour or so had he realised where his feet were taking him – crabwise, sure, but steadily.

Magnus’s. He was going to Magnus’s.

He wasn’t entirely sure why he was going there of all places, but it didn’t matter to him. He couldn’t stop to think about it anyway, for thinking would bring the memories back: Jem teaching him how to throw a knife, Jem and him feeding poultry pie to the ducks in the park, Jem coming to get him off the roof when he was troubled, Jem playing his violin – _Will? Will, is that you?_

The pain in his chest intensified, and he tore at his shirt as he skidded to a halt at Woolsey’s front door.

 

* * *

 

The doorbell rang. Annoyed, Magnus looked up from the book he was reading. Woolsey was out, and Magnus had hoped to spend a quiet evening by the fire. The doorbell rang again, and Magnus closed the book with a sigh. _So much for that_ , he thought wearily and went to open the door.

Outside was something that reminded the warlock of a kitten someone had taken from his mother and attempted to drown in a lake. It was completely drenched, trembled from head to foot and had the limp posture of someone wholly and utterly desperate. The stunningly blue eyes lacked their usual gleam and it was clutching its chest in a pained gesture.

Its chest, where the parabatai rune was etched into the skin.

Magnus stepped aside. “Come in, Will,” he said quietly, trying not to show how much this sight touched him. Even soaked and hurt and shivering Will was beautiful, more beautiful than anything Magnus had ever seen, or at least anything he remembered. _You love broken things_ , Will had said to him once, and it was true. Yet what he loved even more was seeing them whole again, and at this moment Will was anything but.

He led the boy into the sitting room, taking him by the shoulders and pushing him close to the fireplace. He thought about offering tea, but knew Will wouldn’t take it. So he just leaned comfortably against the mantelpiece, crossed his legs and scrutinized him, saying nothing.

For a few minutes, Will just stood and shivered, staring blankly into the fire. Then he spoke.

“He’s gone,” he said simply.

Magnus didn’t need to ask who he meant. The boy was still pressing his hand to his parabatai rune, as if it was a wound he had to keep from bleeding. Magnus continued to watch him quietly.

“I thought he was dead, you know,” Will said, his voice barely audible over the patter of the rain against the windows. “When he- when they made him theirs. The bond just _tore_. It was like… like everything that held me, everything that gave me direction was just _gone_. I lost the thread. Isn’t that how they say it?” He gave a short, mirthless laugh.

“When I saw him alive in Mortmain’s cave, I couldn’t believe my eyes,” he continued. “But there he was. And for a moment – for those few minutes I fought side by side with Jem – I thought everything could go back to normal again.” His expression was absent, wistful, as if he was wishing he could go back to that cave and everything _would_ turn out fine.

“But Jem isn’t Jem anymore, is he?” he said, his mouth twisting into a bitter smile. “He’s one of _them_ now. He’s not my parabatai anymore.” His fingers dug into his shirt as if attempting to tear out the silvery-white scar the rune had left on his chest. He was still staring into the fire – he hadn’t looked at Magnus once during his little talk.

“You love him, don’t you,” Magnus said quietly.

Will turned around sharply. “Of course I love him,” he said hotly. “He’s my _brother_!”

“Of course, of course,” Magnus said quickly, making a placating gesture with his hands. “That just wasn’t quite what I meant,” he added under his breath.

“Then what did you mean?”

Magnus scrutinized him. The flash of anger had brought a faint gleam back into his eyes and spots of colour onto his cheeks. His white chemise, still soaking wet despite Will’s closeness to the fire, clung to his body and revealed the set of firm muscles underneath. He was so beautiful.

Very gently, Magnus asked, “Why are you here, Will?”

The boy just stared at him, taken aback. “I- I don’t know,” he said. “I guess… well, you came to me when Jem was dying, so it just made sense to come to you now, I suppose.”

 

* * *

 

“Hm,” Magnus said.

Will looked at him inquiringly. But the warlock didn’t say any more, just stared at him with those gold-green eyes of his. They were sort of fascinating, Will thought. Like a leopard’s, or a panther’s. Normally they made him feel like a mouse being watched by a very large, very clever cat. But now…

Now there was emotion in them. Pity, of course. Will looked past that hastily. He hated pity, but coming from Magnus it was almost bearable. Almost.

Then there was warmth, the same warmth he had seen on Jem’s face whenever the two of them were together. There was also reflectiveness, and caution, and something else William couldn’t place. He looked away, feeling uncomfortable.

He’d almost given up the hope that Magnus would say anything else this evening when the warlock’s face took on a very strange expression and he did indeed speak once more.

“You’re not one for rules and social standards, are you?” he asked.

And before Will could open his mouth, before he could do anything but wonder at the inaptitude of the question, Magnus had crossed the room with two large strides and kissed Will full on the mouth.

He kissed him.             

He _kissed_ him! Will froze. His first thought was of pushing the warlock away – he dimly remembered that it wasn’t supposed to be like this, men didn’t just kiss other men, certainly not if they weren’t related and least of all on the mouth – but then he stopped thinking, and then it was over and Magnus pulled away from him.

Will just stared up at him, dumbstruck.

Magnus scrutinized him again. The warlock’s hands were still gripping his shoulders, but it was a light touch, and Will suspected its main purpose was to keep his legs from giving out, because they were certainly about to do just that.

“Was that alright?” Magnus asked, his eyes boring into Will’s until he felt like his whole being was laid out for the warlock to see.

_Alright?_ he thought incredulously. What Magnus had done was in no way _alright_ , although Will wasn’t quite sure as to what it was.

He thought back to their kiss, tried to remember how he had been feeling underneath his shock and confusion. _Warm_ , he thought. _Very warm. Light. Tingly._ It hadn’t been bad, he concluded finally. Just… new.

He looked up at Magnus, feeling slightly more steady again. “I- I think so,” he said.

Magnus grinned. “Good,” he replied, and then he kissed him again.

This time, Will was prepared. He closed his eyes as Magnus’s lips met his, enjoying their warmth and their softness. He felt the warlock’s hands on him and lifted his own to slide them under Magnus’s shirt, exploring the firm shapes of his muscles. Magnus replied in kind, running his fingers ever so gently down Will’s spine. Will’s whole body seemed to tingle and his knees trembled. He stumbled, and Magnus pushed him on until his back hit a wall. Will leaned against it gratefully as Magnus’s lips left his mouth and began to wander down his neck, causing Will to sigh. He wrapped his arms tightly around the warlock and pulled him closer. All the while he couldn’t stop running his hands over Magnus’s body, his chest, his belly, his hips, thewy and angular and so different from the female bodies he was used to.

Magnus seemed to guess what he was thinking, for he gripped the hem of his own shirt and pulled it over his head in one fluid motion. Then he gave Will one last, quick kiss and took a step back.

Now Will could marvel quietly at the perfection of the warlock’s body – lean and muscular, firm and smooth and just… _exciting_. He grabbed Magnus’s belt buckle, but the warlock chuckled and pulled his hand away.

“That’s going a bit far for our first rendezvous, don’t you think?” he said, an amused smile playing around his lips.

“It’s not like this was the first time we saw each other,” Will said stubbornly.

“Trust me, you’d only regret this,” Magnus said, smiling leniently. “Anyway, I bet Charlotte and your sister are worried sick. How about you go home and we proceed some other time?”

Will looked up at him uncertainly.

“I won’t run away,” Magnus promised, pulling his shirt back over his head. “Now off you go. Hold up, I’m gonna get you a coat.” And he bustled out of the sitting room.

 

* * *

 

Magnus leaned in the doorway, watching the silhouette of Will Herondale grow fainter and fainter in the rain. So he’d been right. Right about Will, right about Jem, right about everything. He was usually right of course, but still – it was a feeling he could get used to.

He remembered their first kiss, just moments ago in the sitting room. Will had been flabbergasted, naturally – the poor boy had had no idea that a man could give him just as much as a woman. But only his surprise and confusion had kept him from noticing that Magnus had been almost as nervous as him.

The warlock gazed after Will pensively. From the moment he had met him, the first time he’d seen those dark blue eyes he’d wondered what it would be like to kiss him. Later, when he’d got to know him better, he had felt himself slowly fall in love with him – his broken heart, his troubled mind, his honest soul. Who would have thought that the boy would return his feelings?

Of course, it could be just a passing fancy, a way to fill the hole Jem had left in the young Shadowhunter’s life. But Magnus doubted it. William Herondale didn’t do things by halves. With him, it was all or nothing – in matters of love most of all.

Whatever it was, Magnus thought complacently, Will had left his house considerably less broken than he had entered it. And that had been the point of it all, hadn’t it?


End file.
